Diary of Smythe
The Diary of Reginald Smythe, Miskatonic Anthropology Student July 12 We're about to depart for Brazil. I'm so excited. I can't believe Professor Carruthers chose me to join him. The chance to explore Brazil, to study tribes of man that have never before seen civilization, is almost overwhelming. July 20 Horribly seasick most of the journey. Feeling weak and lethargic. Unsure if I'll be well enough by Cuyaba to travel with the expedition. I can't be left behind! July 30 Are now leaving Corumba by boat to Cuyaba. The boat is barely large enough for all of us. I am feeling better, but still not at top form. Once we get moving, I'm sure things will be better. August 8 We have spent little time in Cuyaba, just long enough to replenish some food provisions, and Carruthers has hired local guides and bought some pack animals for the early part of the journey. August 12 The nights are interminable. Between the buzzing of insects, the call of countless birds, the squealing of monkeys in the night, and the distant roar of giant cats, I feel that I am being slowly driven mad. August 17 My face and hands are a mess. The vampire bites I received have begun to swell and leak. I can barely see due to the polverinhas that swarm about my eyes. It's been little more than a week. I imagine we've gone less than ten miles from Cuyaba. I despair of ever leaving this place. August 23 There are maggots inside my leg. No matter how brutal the treatment of this verdant hell, there is always a worse depravity to come. The Tucapi have treated the wound, but I do not trust their mixture of mud and plants. This jungle will be my end. August 27 There was an attack. I am ashamed that I was too weak to fight, or even, really, to stand. I lay there in the camp, sweating, delirious, and afraid as the cries of rage and pain sounded around me, and the air filled with gun smoke. It was nightmarish, in my condition; unreal, like an opiate hallucination, impossible to escape. I saw one of the Tucapi fall inches from me, his arm turning black from the arrow which had just pierced it, and his eyes searched frantically for some release until they stilled, glassy and empty. I have seen death in action, the transition from vibrant striving to survive, to still acceptance of the ultimate defeat. I vow not to let this place get the better of me. I will live, I will be stronger than this inimitable, tortuous, godforsaken land, and return home, to shout my existence to the world. I woke the next day much more clearheaded, and can walk much better already today. I have examined icons that Carruthers left with me, and they are disturbing in the extreme. Very reminiscent of the kind of primitive idol a savage might revere. September 7 I believe I am completely healed. The infestation in my leg has disappeared, as if the maggots evaporated, and the hole is closing up. Dunn is amazed and proud, and I am grateful, though I am sure as much of my recovery lies in my new determination as in his skills as chirurgeon. September 10 Carruthers has given me another set of icons - pink this time, to keep with the rest. I would complain about the weight, but I feel strong and capable, able to keep up with, and even surpass! the rest of the party, even with the extra weight. I did give one to Mary, and one to Maude, as I thought one of them might like it. Privacy is difficult to find on the trail, but gentle company is even rarer, and if I can woo one of these fair ladies, then perhaps our return to civilisation will reap more than merely academic rewards. September 15 Bakairi is behind us, and the river is as difficult as trekking, for entirely different reasons. There was a piranha scare, and several intimidating water snakes, but I stood still and they passed me by, barely regarding my presence. I am surprised, given my condition of two weeks ago, to find that I am one of the most hale of the party. Half of us are feeling the effects of the constant effort, lack of food, sleep deprivation, but I and a few others continue unflagged. My only discomforting report is of uneasy dreams. I do not understand them, but they seem to have some meaning inaccessible to my waking mind. These are no 'showing to up to finals in underpants' nightmares, or childish wish fulfilment, but strange, and fraught with bizarre symbology I'm sure I've never seen before. I blame the extreme conditions, and profound differences from civilised life. pages rendered unreadable by mould October 1 I miss and mourn Mary. Maude is pretty enough, but too enamoured of her boss, and Dr. Vinson is too old. Nearly forty. If I had more control of my new-found abilities, I am sure that I could have saved her, been the hero. It is not enough that I saved the rest, especially since they cannot know how. They believed the story of the gunpowder-filled sock, as there was so much chaos, and the burned boa was believed to have been an ancillary effect, instead of the motive force allowing me to defeat so many of the attackers. Carruthers tried to force more of their evil carvings upon me, but I refused, and he could not gainsay the hero of the hour, despite my subordinate place to him. He can't know I disposed of the others he gave me in a river some days back. I suppose I will have to make up a story, eventually, of my pack spilling in the trail, some contents unrecoverable. There is more here than they know, and I am still unsure as to how much they should be told. pages water damaged, only disparate phrases are now readable ...e nightmares persist, strange images of another world, b..... ...Phthashen speaks to me, needs.... ...w Dowling has turned, but no one sees the da.... Novem... ...ws easier to hunt, find sac.... ...ching, searching, something mal.... ...shown himself, finally, taken entirely by the power of Zh.... December 12 We've established a base camp, for the ill, while the healthy among us continue on. There is a high land nearby which looks a promising place to survey the surroundings. I wish them luck, but given the hazards I know surround us, I cannot even be confident that I, with my new-found and ill understood abilities, can protect those left behind, much less the ones still trekking. I have been able to help the doctor, using my abilities without anyone noticing, and letting him take the credit. I am satisfied with this, as I am sure most would resist my techniques, no matter how effective, no matter that they owe my new-found god their lives. I can sense much about the surrounding jungle, and we are safe from the bats, boars, and predatory cats now that I have managed to secrete protection for the few remaining in camp, but the insects and concomitant fevers and sores are still a danger, as well as the potential for poisonous snakes. There is much I can do with my hunting - I have a stock of small snakes, lizards, and turtles to use, but I constantly worry that there will be some depredation while I sleep, or hunt. December 14 I found a crocodile today, and used it. I should have brought it back to camp. The meat is actually quite good, the more so since I know the ties it has, but I couldn't help it, and spent the day hunting with such stealth, and heightened senses, and raw, primal power... I confess, diary, that it was quite intoxicating. I did bring back a large snake for the camp, and there was much quiet rejoicing. I think they know I had more to do with their recovery than I let on, and acting as primary food gatherer in this fecund desert, and with my vibrancy and strength above the others, they look to me as de facto leader now. I do not yet know how comfortable I am with that fact. December 16 My dreams continually get worse. More dire, more apocalyptic. I have not entirely forsaken my Christian upbringing, though I think the picture of the spiritual world is not so simple as I once did, but I fear something approaches similar to the rapture. I feel my role is to stop this, but I do not yet know what action to take, or what inaction may mean. There is light in the night, dimly seen through the thickness of foliage, but my new senses provide me visions of what happens in the sky. it is significant, but I can't see how. The dreams will show me, I am sure. I only hope that I see the answers in time. December 18 I hunted again last night, as other. I feel too powerful when I do so, to resist. In my travels, I found traces- disturbing traces, invisible to my new spiritual senses, but all too cognizant to my transformed self. Tracks, and scents, of men, but not truly men. They are minions of the dark god, I am sure, and I know they threaten us. I have a stockpile of fodder - a crocodile, an enormous turtle, a few small lizards, and I have located an ant's nest vulnerable to an easy flare pistol shot from camp. The others think I have stockpiled food, tired of the constant hunt. They can't know that they may well owe their lives to these creatures, and not by putting them over the fire. There are many of them, and I don't know their intentions or motivations, but I can only assume they mean us ill. I don't know that I can overcome their numbers, but I doubt they suspect my power, and surprise may buy me - us - the advantage we need. Category:Migrated